I (sometimes) call myself Mr. Pondersome. I'm a rather wordy, weirdy person. I say hullo a lot. I write a lot more. While you're here, why not give some of it a read?

Sunday, 22 September 2013


The Yellow Rucksack Sisters Come to Paterhurst

A Poem by Tobias Clint (Civil Servant)

Printed in the Daily Tree



Marigold, Alyssa, Sahara and Kin

Open their shiny rucksacks again,

Their hands are soft and mellow but quick

And they fly to perform their yellowy tricks.


Watch as they throw their streamers and glitter,

Watch as they light and explode them mid-flitter

Then scoop up the ashes and swallow them whole -

Can you see how their skin is now starting to glow?


At the end of their act they pick up their sacks

And just as we all lay back to relax

Marigold grabs Sahara, Alyssa grabs Kin,

Throw them up, then down, then somehow straight in!


The rucksacks are closed and two sisters walk out

While the other two are gone with nary a shout.

The bombastic ringmaster returns to the light,

We stare at the stage but all he says is goodnight.


Oh well, I say loudly, stepping out of the tent

At least I can say that was money well-spent.

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